Home For New Year
by Sandylee007
Summary: Having endured a lonely Christmas and prepared to spend New Year in a similar fashion, Natasha gets a surprise. Clint is exhausted and in need of medical care, but at least he's finally home.              A FLUFFY CLINTASHA ONESHOT TO CELEBRATE NEW YEAR


A/N: HAPPY NEW YEAR! (grins) I decided to celebrate the start of 2018 with a little oneshot. THIS IS DEDICATED TO A DEAR READER, AND ALL CLINTASHA FANS OUT THERE.

DISCLAIMER: PLEEEEEEEEEASE…! Clint (and Natasha) would have a movie of their own by now if I DID own ANYTHING. (pouts)

WARNINGS: Clintasha, some language (sorry, Steve…!), mentions of wounds and injury… Woah! What a short list for my fic.

OKAY, folks! It's GO TIME. I REALLY hope that you'll enjoy the ride!

TAKES PLACE before the first 'Avengers' movie, completely ignores 'Age of Ultron' (or, well, you know which parts of it I mean).

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 ** _Home For New Year_**

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Natasha Romanoff had always been a light sleeper. Someone with the enemies she'd managed to obtain had to be. And the noise of someone stumbling to the apartment she used the most… Now that was quite hard to miss. In a matter of seconds she'd opened her eyes, grabbed the gun she always held under her pillow and jumped gracefully out of the bed.

The apartment was dark, but her eyes adjusted to the lack of light quickly. The intruder wasn't quite so lucky. Her adrenaline-sharpened ears caught two stumbling steps, then irritated muttering.

Very familiar muttering.

Irritation and more worry than she would've ever admitted out loud taking over, she finally switched on the lights. There was no point in ensuring the element of surprise anymore. "What, exactly, do you think you're doing?"

Clint Barton, who was leaning against the wall, smirked sheepishly. Did he favor his right leg? "Eh… Surprise?"

Natasha's eyebrow bounced up. Her intent gaze scanned for potential injuries. "And what gave you the idea that _surprising_ a former assassin was a good idea?" When her friend's balance finally broke and he stumbled she was there in a flash, supporting him. "I thought the mission was supposed to take another week."

Clint shrugged the best as he could. "You're not the type to shoot before confirming the target", he pointed out. "As for the mission…" He winced when they began to move forward. "I decided to, ah…" Another wince. "… speed up the schedule, a bit."

"Did you, now?" Her tone was sharper than she'd meant it to be. She didn't care. She was allowed to get mad when Clint got stupid. The way her friend was leaning against her and trembled from pain made her stomach knot uncomfortably. How badly was he hurt? With how his eyelids drooped and his feet began to drag, she decided that keeping him awake was a good idea. "Why were you in such a hurry?"

Clint seemed either ashamed or sleepy. Definitely pained. She would've felt sorry for him if he hadn't been a moron. "Just…" There was a clearly audible gasp when their turn to right, towards bathroom, pulled at something nasty. "… didn't want you to… spend New Year… alone. Already…" A hiss, along with a grimace. "… missed Christmas."

That… tugged at something inside Natasha that wasn't supposed to exist anymore. Something she'd imagined Red Room erased ages ago. She had to compose herself for a while before daring to try her voice. "What?" Well, that wasn't her most intellectual moment.

Clint squeezed his eyes tightly shut. Just for a moment, but she noticed. Then did his best to pretend that the moment of weakness never happened. "Knew you'd… sulk here… all alone…" He glanced towards her briefly from the corner of his eye. "… deserve better …"

How was she supposed to react to _that_? She decided that deciding a course of action could wait. She took a deep breath, trying to ignore the way her supposedly nonexistent heart was hammering and how her stomach squirmed. And she most definitely wanted to ignore how her eyes stung. "Right…" Another deep breath, to match her friend's sharp and agonized one. "We have to get you to the bathroom. But there's a threshold. Do you think you can handle that?"

In full honesty, it looked like Clint barely managed to stay upright. He swallowed, several times over, and his face took a rather alarming shade of greyish pale. "Gotta try", was what he settled for.

Try they did. The step was ridiculously small, but enough to disturb Clint's delicate balance. He swayed violently, almost succeeded in taking them both down before he found his footing again. The intense gulps which followed didn't fill her with reassurance.

Completing the journey took only two more steps but it was almost too much. By the time she'd maneuvered her friend to a toilet seat cover he was trembling miserably. And clearly fought the urge to curl up from pain.

"What's the damage?" She went on when he showed no sign of intending to answer. "I'm planning on helping you, because despite your thick skull I don't want you to keel over." It was the closest to 'because I care about you' she could manage. "And to do that, I need you to tell me what's wrong. Judging by the melon decorating the side of your head, I'm betting on a concussion. What else?"

Clint looked at her like a child who'd been scolded, then relented. "Just… bruising. May have cracked a rib, dunno." If the sound of his breathing was any indication he'd broken at least one of them. And was lucky it didn't cause more damage. "Scratches… A few lacerations…" He appeared sheepish once more. "Don't tell Coulson I…" He winced at the sound her opening a first aid cabinet's door caused. "… jumped through a window again."

Natasha gritted her teeth. So, yeah, alright. Now she was worried. And wasn't sure which one of them she hated more for it. She delivered a rather impressive list of non-flattering nicknames in Russian. "… Barton, you…!" She was cut short when he began to slide off his seat. "Hey, hey! Eyes open. I'm not letting you fall asleep on me yet."

Clint's nose wrinkled. If it wasn't for the bruising forming to his face that might've seemed adorable. "… tired …"

"Well, tough. You wanted to keep me company, remember? So I'm keeping you awake." She hated the way he tensed up the second she grabbed his shirt, knowing that some ghosts from the past came to life in his head. "Clint, I'm not going to hurt you. I'm trying to help you, and to do that properly I have to see. Okay?"

Clint nodded and let her work, but didn't manage to relax. He also didn't lash out when she eventually touched him, even if it seemed to take all his willpower. She knew him and life well enough to appreciate such an incredible display of trust.

There was blood. Unnervingly lot of it. She did her best to be gentle while she cleaned him up but every brush made him shudder from increased tension. Yes, he definitely had bruising. And wounds. So many lacerations that she didn't want to count them. She mused grimly that the new scars he'd without a doubt get would be right at home among the old ones.

Natasha shook her head. Where was she even going to start? "Your aversion to proper medical care is going to get you killed one day", she predicted darkly. But it wouldn't be today, she'd make sure of that.

Clint scowled. "'hate medics. And hospitals. 'nd med bays. 'sides… would've come 'back late." She felt his glance. "… 'p frowning."

Natasha rolled her eyes. If it wasn't for the concussion she might've smacked him. "I'll stop frowning as soon as I've put you back together again." Her shoulders slumped slightly from defeat. "Look… I have something to ease the pain but not even nearly enough…"

"'s okay", Clint murmured. It sounded like he was barely conscious. She hated it. "… had worse."

Her eyes darkened. "I know." And she did, too well. With a deep, steadying breath she began the seemingly never-ending workload. "Right. This isn't going to be pleasant."

It took an endless amount of stitches. Yet Clint never once made a sound. A few times she had to check that he was still awake.

She was just about to finish up with one of the biggest wounds when cheers erupted from her neighbor's apartment, and the noise from fireworks grew more intense outside.

"Hey." Clint's eyes were barely open and pained when they met hers, but also full of such warmth she'd never seen him aim towards anyone else. "Happy New Year."

Natasha couldn't help it, hard as she tried to resist. She smiled. "Happy New Year, idiot."

She continued her work as a peaceful silence lingered between them. Her neighbors began to sing, horribly. More rockets found their way to the sky, making people cheer.

"This, ah…" Clint wince from more than just agony. "… wasn't exactly… the romantic New Year I…"

Powerless against a new, powerful impulse, Natasha leaned forward and brushed his lips with hers. Hoping that the gesture somehow expressed what she couldn't bring herself to say. (' _Thank you, for coming back._ ' ' _Don't ever scare me like this again._ ' ' _I love you._ ') They looked at each other before she licked her lips and exhaled in perfect sync with him, their breaths mingling. "There. That should shut you up. And help with the pain."

If Clint's dopey, heartbreakingly honest and open smile was anything to go by, the pain did ease, even if only for a moment.

It took another hour to get all Clint's injuries sorted. By then he was so exhausted and achy that there was no way he would've made it to the bedroom. So, decision made, Natasha dragged a mattress to the floor and, uncharacteristically and incredibly gently, positioned them both to it. It didn't matter how much pain he was in. As soon as she lay down Clint wrapped an arm around her and pulled her as close as humanly possible. Not even pretending that she wouldn't have wanted to, Natasha returned the gesture and inhaled his familiar, soothing scent. Very slowly the frantic beat of her heart began to calm down.

She would've never, ever admitted as much out loud. But she'd missed him, a lot. And clearly she came terrifyingly close to losing him. (There was hardly a thing in the world that would've scared her, but the idea of losing him did. Which she wasn't ever admitting, either.) But now she had him in her arms. Right where he belonged, even though he snored lightly as he always did when injured or ill. And she wasn't planning on letting go anytime soon.

Half an hour later the world around them was still celebrating with fireworks, songs and excited squeals. But there, for that magical night safe in their own little world, the two of them slept soundly. Their limbs tangled like they'd melted together. And it was the best New Year either of them had ever had.

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End

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A/N: Awwww! Clint, you complete and utter bonehead… (shakes head) BUT, at least he made it back home. And it seems that he's now in quite capable hands. (smirks)

SOOOOO… Was that any good, at all? PLEASE, do leave a note to let me know!

THANK YOU, so much, for reading! Maybe I'll see you around one day.

Take care!


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